b 



ADDRESS 



fe 




*^ e W.> >*-*** ' 






ti'Styp^. 



^m 



CORRESPONDENCE. 






CORRESPONDENCE. 



Missouri University, July 1, 1853. 

R. L. Todd, Esq In behalf of the Alumni of Missouri University , 

we tender thanks to you for the very appropriate, beautiful and able 
address delivered before us this morning, and solicit a copy for publi- 
cation. Yours, very respectfully, 

JAS. H. PARKER, 
JNO. M. GORDON, 
W. T. LENOIR. 



Columbia, July 1, 1853. 
Gentlemen: In reply to your note of this morning, asking for pub- 
: lication a copy of the Address delivered before the Association of the 
I Alumni, I tender you my thanks for the very flattering manner in 
s which you were pleased to speak of my effort. I enclose you the copy 
: desired, trusting that your partiality has not induced you to overesti- 
; mate its merits. 

With high regard for you personally, I am, Gentlemen, 

Very truly yours, R. L. TODD. 

Messrs. Gordon, Parker, Lenoir, Committee. 



<5 



'z^m. 



o 



ADDRESS 



Fellow- Alumni, 

Ladies and Gentlemen : 
Twelve years have elapsed since the University of Mis- 
souri, endowed by the munificence of our National Legisla- 
ture, was permanently organized. It was committed to the \ 
guidance and direction of the accomplished and distinguished 
gentleman and scholar, President Lathrop, aided by a corps 
of able and zealous Professors ; whose number, however. 
was sadly limited, accommodated to the exigencies of a new ; 
institution, without a library, without apparatus, with a ; 
: character to establish, a patronage to create, sympathies to > 
; enlist, an unproductive fund, and struggling under pecuniary 
: embarrassments. 

Its location at this point was secured, as we all know, by < : 
a handsome and liberal donation from the citizens of Boone. 
This was no slight indication of their estimate cf its future i 
value; and while it affords proof of a high order of their intel- 
ligence and wise forethought, it portrays in the liveliest; 
colors their enlarged philanthropy and zeal in the grea t 
cause of sound and thorough education. All honor, then, 
from us, Alumni of the University, to those who have thus | 
manifested their high appreciation of the necessity and value 
©f cultivating the minds and hearts of the young; who have \ 
given so freely of their goods for this end, and who, having 
builded the house, this spacious and tasteful Temple of Sci- 
ence, have faithfully stood by its fortunes, watched its pro- 
gress with solicitude, and proven their devotion to the best 
■ interests of their kind. With them, especially, must its 
• prosperity be matter of paramount importance ; and while it 
ffi should be the pride, as it is the interest and duty, of the 
<3i „ ' ><•)' 



2 JLDDRESS OF '&?] 

State to foster and cherish it into a richer and a manlier j \ 
{ growth, yet it is with peculiar pleasure and self-gratula- j 
^tion, that the citizens of Boone, its earliest friends and mostj 
constant patrons, must witness its steady advance to a high 
position among its sister institutions, and find it a source of j 
healthful, invigorating, elevating influences. 

From its first graduating class in 1843, of two young men i 
| one of whom has now the pleasing duty of addressing you \ 
j assigned to him, its progress, though gradual, has been steady \ 
j owing to increased interest and attention to the subject of \ 
| education, to our greater population, to its multiplied re- \ 
| sources of instruction and its established character ; and j 
with the close of the current collegiate year fourteen young \ 
\ gentlemen terminate their connection with it, making a total j 
i of seventy-seven who huve completed the prescribed course- 
J of study, and have received the honors of the University. 

This number nesessarily excludes the far greater number '■ 
X of those who have availed themselves for a time of its in- 
\ structions, and hence is no measure of its usefulness. This 
\ is but its first fruits — the beginning of its work in the glo- > - 
\ rious career open to it, in which it is to stamp its impress [ 
I upon vast numbers of the young in the Valley of the Mis- j 
\ sissippi, if it is only true to itself and faithful to the high 
\ interests committed to its keeping. The Literary Institu- < 
> tions of a country are the nurseries of its genius and its \ 
I talent. From them may fairly be expected to proceed in- 
\ fluences which shall mould its thought and control its action 
to a degree which defies calculation. It is a glorious truth 
: indeed, that we are often gladdened by seeing men attain to 
\ eminence and distinction and filling extensive spheres off 
; usefulness, who have surmounted the disadvantages of de- 
fective early training ; and many, possessing all the ele- 
ments of success and capable of distinguished action, arej 
embarrassed by the want of early educational facilities, and 
have needed only the supply of this want to have won forj 
themselves consideration and fame. Yet it is but reasonable 
to look for educated men, for those who shall leave their im- i 



». L. TGDD. 8 



press upon the literature, the thought, the history and the \ 
destiny of the country, to those institutions whose busineis 
it is to create and to form them. A great genius may force < 
>his way up to distinction, usefulness, fame, in despite of the ! 
; want of these advantages which would have aided his ascent, 
I and, perhaps, by their liberalizing tendency, have given a I 
| wider range of thought, a more just and harmonious devel- ; 
'opmentof mind. And the most glowing chapter of our 
[history, the one most fraught with instruction and with pro- 



mise — richest with grateful thoughts — most gladdening to \ 

the heart of the philanthropist — is that which tells us of the 

struggles and triumphs of these self-made men, these untaught i 

sons of genius, whose contributions to our Literature, Science 

■> and Art form so considerable a portion of our cherished I 

* treasure. Still they constitute but the exceptions, and as 

\ we must look in the physical world, for results only from \ 

^causes adapted to produce them, so in the mental and moral i 

| world may we reasonably hope for excellence only from early j 

and assiduous culture. And for this we must rely, prima- 



; rialy and mainly, en the tone and influence of our educational j 
| agents — and hence the crowning interest attached to our \ 
< Colleges and Universities, assuming, as they do, the training \ 
\ and moulding of the young and plastic mind, as their appro- 
priate field — and thus perpetuating their own character. I 
J Their Alumni are indeed their "epistles, known and read of I 
all men." 

Few subjects then are so well adapted to excite our live- 
liest interest, to enlist our warmest sympathies, or so readily j 
to arouse our apprehensions, as those connected with our \ 
\ Literary Institutions. They are the property of the country, j 
fostered and sustained by the public sentiment, which they | 
in turn serve to modify, direct or perpetuate; and a well \ 
conducted and successful experiment in their establishment I 
i is a proper source of public gratulation. 
I | But with none can this feeling of interest be more lively 
cU than with those who are indebted for their early literary 
/*% culture to the successful candidate for patronage and f»vor 



l^P^Z ~^(^U 



4 ADDRESS OF 



whose necessity and value have been already conceded, whos e < 
halls are thronged by ingenuous youth, whose teachings are 
regarded by an enlightened public as sound and valuable. 
I While then, gentlemen, we meet here to-day to revive old 
\ associations, to mingle again in these halls, so often hereto- 
\ fore the witnesses of our youthful trials, failures and tri- 
i umphs, and contribute our efforts for the success of the In- 
stitution; while troops of thronging memories, merry fan- 
$ cies and half-remembered sorrows, are crowding upon us, j 
ji it can be no slight addition to the gratification of our re-union 
i to witness the evidences of substantial growth and progress 
I of our Alma Mater. We must rejoice to see the vast in- 
\ crease of educational facilities, a growing library, extensire 
\ apparatus and cabinets, an ample and productive fund, and 
\ multiplied chairs of instruction — adequate to the wants of \ 
) our giant young State, so expressively manifested by the - 
\ numbers on its catalogue. May its success keep pace with, 
\ our progressive age ; may it be foremost in the cause of 
\ sound and useful popular instruction — cherished by the State 
| until its doors shall be open to confer society's best and rich- 
\ est gift — a free education — on the poorest child of the com- 
\ monwealtli. 

\ But, gentlemen, while the present affords satisfaction and 
\ the future is full of hope, it cannot but be grateful to us to 
\ review the scenes of the past and to trace the course of our 
\ fellow- Alumni. We find them hardly yet ripening into 
\ matured manhood, already reflecting credit upon their in- 
\ structors — some in the more unobtrusive, though not less 
i valuable, pursuits of private life — some occupying chairs in 
\ the University itself — ris ing members of the legal and medical 
\ professions — participating in the- deliberations and discus- 
\ sions of legislative bodies — ''embassadors for Christ," devo- 
iting their energies to the study of His word and the exten- i 
sion of His kingdom. And while we exchange congratula- j 
tions upon the attained success and promised usefulness of \ \ 
our fellows, let us recall tenderly the memory of the departed \ ^ 
and pay our tribute of respect and affection to him, whose ^\ 





R. L. TODD. 



early promise was so soon and so sadly withdrawn — whose 
unfolding energies were but ripening for a premature grave. \ 
The heart sickens and recoils at the death of the young. \ 
We can understand that the old man, full of honors and 
years, after a life of labor and of usefulness, having drained : 
the cup of pleasure and bitterly felt the inadequacy of earth ; 
lo satisfy the longings of the imirortal spirit, should be ex- :' 
pected, us a shock of corn fully ripened, to be gathered to 
. his fathers — aye, should even await with anxiety the time \ 
i of his release from earth, when "this mortal shall put on \ 
immortality." But the young man, just opening on the \ 
bravery and glory of matured manhood, in the beauty and 
fullness of his young life, with the rich, warm blood cours- 
ing proudly through his veins, having passed the dependent 
periods of childhood and youth, with beating heart and flushed j 
hope, hails with joy promise of the future, tinted with the j 
glowing colors of a fancy not yet chastened by disapj oint- I 
ment. And it is one of the sealed mysteries in the economy 
of Providence that he should be so suddenly removed hence — 
with aims yet unrealized — and thus disappoint the cherished 
dreams of friends, whose clustering hopes clung in luxuriant \ 
richness around him. Such was the sad and early end of the ^ 
! lamented Allen, whom alone we fail to reckon of our num.- 
ber to-day. The experience of each, doubtless, affords but 
\ too many of such saddening thoughts — our hearts are fraught j 
with many recollections of disappointment and of grief — 
yet we cannot but have found life full of beauty, full of joy. 
and full of triumphs. The buoyancy of youthful hope has 
been somewhat lessened by our experience of its liability to ; 
overcalculating fondness — the roseate hues of youthful an- { 
ticipations have been colored with the more sombre tints of 
actual existences — the gorgeousness of the panorama sketched 
by an exuberant and glowing fancy, has been toned down by 
the darker coloring and less unreal objects of each one's his- 
tory, and often we have been, forced to yield up, as the ''airy , 
nothings" of a too poetic brain, 

"Myriads of hopes and joy^ and burning loves, 
Thit seemed like things of immortality. - v 

_ __ _ __™J^> 




Z^SM 



f 



ADDRESS OF 



i 



Life, with each and all, is an earnest, often a sad, reality- 
allowing but small space for the ''piping times of peace" 

| tilled up with daily duties and daily trials—demanding of 
each an account of our discharge of high and solemn trusts. 
And it must be so from the very necessities of our nature. — \ 
The world v/ithout us, thronged with objects of beauty and 
of interest, is exquisitely adapted to enlist and engross the \ 
| world within us, to call all our faculties into exercise, and 
| yield to every desire its appropriate gratification. Each \ 
\ world re-acts upon the other, affording pleasure more or less | 
^alloyed, as the relations existing between them are less or? 
\ more distinctly appreciated and observed. In the perception 
\ of these relations lies the great problem of our existence 
| here — whose practical solution, as escape from the effort is 
| impossible, is found in each one's daily life — whose full 
solution is the apostolic u Oi chromenoi to kosmo touto cs 
me hatachromenoi." Our nature is essentially earnest and 
passionate — the higher its type, the more perfect its devel- 
opment, the more intensely earnest it becomes. And hap- 
piness is possible only so far as our varied cravings and \ 
desires are met by some object in serious harmony with our ! 
nature, adapted to our capacities, suited to enlist our pro- 
\ found sympathies. And it is utterly and forever vain to sup- 
[pose that our demands and necessities can be met by anything 
\ short of the great and solemn, (to each of us our own are great 
rand solemn,) duties, trials, joys and triumphs, as we find > 
\ them in us and around us. Mere fanciful conceit can but \ 
\ stay us for a moment in our onward search for the more real \ 
\ and earnest. The full employment of one faculty cannot re- < 
''. strain the others from seeking out their appropriate objects 
\ of interest and gratification. The mind is insatiate until all j 
its powers have been fully exercised, and all its wants been < 
! ully met — and he is false to himself and recreant to his 
high trust who fails harmoniously to develop all the facul- jj 
ties that God has given him. To do this, the pursuit of the \ \ 
trifles of the present time, even our highest, noblest em-<j / 
ployments here, will not suffice. The varied fields of Science JQ\ 



m>^Z _ I2&3M 



R. L. TODD. 7 ^ 



\zn& of Art, of Literature and of Song, tempting us as they, 
^do to linger in long and unsatisfied delight, are not extensive 
[enough to fill up the measure of our capacities — to exhaust I 
'our powers of future effort, to quench our cravings for yet 
^more exalted joys. There is that in each of us, whieh in all > 
J goodness, was not intended by our Creator to be satisfied. 
' with earthly delights or triumphs — aspirations after a near- ' 
' er approach to Deity himself — an earnest longing for fuller 

acquaintance with the mysteries of our being here and of] 
I that higher sphere, towards which we feel we are tending. I 
"■ To Him, "who taught the thought to soar," will our thoughts > 
I ascend ; and from such contemplations come our richest ; 
\ teachings of wisdom and of love. And as He has given us \ 
I no desire without furnishing us with its guide and director, > 
} so in this He has not left himself without a witness to each 
J — a monitor to warn against violations of His established I 
\ laws — to lead us back — by suffering it may be — to the path 
| of obedience and of safety. It matter: not, for our present j 
l purpose, that we adopt the nomenclature of one or another \ 
: school of ethical or mental science 5 tha"" we style this moni- \ 
tor, conscience, moral sense, or sense of duty; that we view 
it as the result of the action of the intelhct upon our sensi- 
' tive nature, or as an independent faculty — whether its exis- 
tence may be best accounted for on the utilitarian theory, or I 
j as an inherent perception of right and love of it for its own \ 
sake, without regard to its effects. The?? are questions 
I which have long been mooted among inquirers into the sci- 
I ence of mind, and were discussed, with perhaps as much 
I clearness and force, by the ancients in the Groves of the 
Academy and in the Stoic Porch, as in mor^ recent times. 
It sufficei us most amply that the fact exists of the percep- 
| ception by all of a sense of moral obligation — ever present 
\ and, in a greater or less degree, ever active — that the stern, \ 
-] inevitable word ought, with its peculiar force is perpetually 
recurring to all. That this is a fact of no mean significance | 
would seem to be apparent at a glance. And y#t, strange I J 
as it may be, the value of this moral sense, this perception^ 



m-^yp^' 



8 



Z^MFe 



ADDRESS OF 



'/ 




of right and wrong, with its instantaneons approval of the I 
one and condemnation of the other, as an object of education 
and training in the young, and particularly as a means of: 
success with the more advanced, has been sadly underrated. 
The inherent and not unnatural pride of reason, even when 
not blinded by prejudice or passion, induces it, in the earlier \ 
j' stages of its tottering progress, to reject the offered aid of 
Jits young but earlier born helpmate — to turn a deaf ear to its 
| voice of warning or entreaty — and to trust to its own un- ; 
assisted strength to reach its conclusions. And hence comes 
the sadder consequence, that while in the preparation for the 
\ great "battle of life," every attention may be paid to the ; 
j physical, and all the resources of skill and science are lav- ! 
\ ished upon the training of the intellect, no place is allowed, I 
\ and no education prepared, for the moral sense, as one of the 
\ agents, by which we may hope to achieve the conquest over 
the admiration, love and honors of the world. And hence 
| men do not estimate at anything approaching its true impor- 
j tance the value of this sense, as an element of success in life. 
| Of course it is not intended to under-estimate the office of 
the intellect in our guidance and direction, to detract aught. 
| from its conceded value as a prominent cause of individual 
\ and social elevation and greatness. This were indeed a 
\ fruitless effort, so long as it is by conflict of mind with mind 
I that conviction is produced or motives to action supplied — 
\ so long as the relations of a single truth to other truths are 
5 not universally known and appreciated — or while there re- 
\ mains one element or combination of elements in the material 
\ world, which has not been brought into subjection to the 
\ human will, or which scientific research has not made the 
\ accessible subject of our study — the subservient handmaid 
| to our happiness. The relations of man to man, of mind and 
matter, of every moral, mental and physical truth to every 
\ other truth, form the appropriate field for intellectual re- 
( search and enquiry, glowing with beauty, enrapturing by 1 
AJ its interest, and rewarding the researcher after its mysteries \ c 
C^k with its treasures of thought and its wonders of love. As \r\ 



R. L. TODD. 9 

long as there is in this extensive and inviting field one spot 
unillumined by the glorious flood-light of Science, failing 
I to contribute its portion to human knowledge and human 
i advancement, or not radiant with its Maker's glory and 
) beaming with proofs of His goodness, so long must and ought 
j the intellect to hold its glorious pathway, alike among 

* God's giant and animalcule creations, enriching its 
] possessor with its priceless contributions, adding to the 
I knowledge and well-being of man and revealing in increas- 
' s ; ing effulgence his Maker's excellent glory. There can be 
\ no fear then that due consideration will nut always be given 
^ to the intellect, in every stage of the educational progress. 
\ Well founded apprehensions may, however, be entertained 
\ that undue reliance will be placed upon that as the source 
; of success, and a degree of cultivation bestowed upon it, out 
! of all proportion, and to the neglect of the moral faculties, 
\ which constitute a, perhaps but little less sure, means of at- 
i taining distinction here. It is true indeed, that every liber- 
5 ally educated man is expected, required to study Ethics as 
\ a Science. And it is doubtless generally true that its facts 
; and principles are received and regarded as valuable truths 
\ — well worthy of attention and consideration, after each shall 
I have secured the object most attractive to him in life. 

Few indeed dissent from the cardinal principles of mo- 
i, ralily — few gainsay the imperious claims of natural and 
| moral law to respect and obedience; and yet, even while 
^ those claims are admitted as just, they are practically de- 

* nied — and those who are firm in their conviction of the truth 
> of perhaps a sound theory and ze.iloiis in their advocacy of 
I the pure doctrines of an enlightened faith, are yet found in 
I the daily and direct disobedience of the injunctions of the 
\ very huv, for whose supreme claims to respect they contend 
\ most earnestly. The truth is conceded but disregarded — 
f the necessity of obedience to law is granted, and yet obe- | 

dience is refused and the law defied. And it has well nigh j J 

i become a reproach to the educated mind of the country, that \Ji 

y while having the most profound acquaintance with the sol- & 

'■& ^ 



ADDRESS OF 






\ emn, weighty truths of moral science, and yielding the most 
\ cordial recognition of the claims of moral law, it yet mani- 
i f ests apparent utter indifference to the distinctions between 
' virtue and vice, and the most flagrant disregard of every 
principle recognized as moral truth, when there may seem 
to be opposition between such a principle and the attainment 
< of its own cherished objects. And it is well worthy of en- 
quiry, why it is that educated men, receiving moral truth 
\ after investigation, are as little, often far less, impressed 
I with it, less careful for its conservation, less solieitous to 
I avoid the appearance of esteeming it lightly, than the un- 
\ educated mind, which is true to its instincts, and true, in 
\ its action, to its living faith. And the question suggests 
\ its answer — the faith of the one is living — that of the other 
| speculative^ inoperative, dead. Our life is a ceaseless 
j struggle between the aspirations and the hopes that lead us 
s upward, by the cultivation of the spirit, and those that draw 
I us earthward to the gratification of our sensual appetites or 
! to the cultivation of the intellect as a means of present pow- 
er and present happiness ; and the enjoyments afforded by 
\ objects of our daily experience are far more seductive than 
those of which the senses do not take cognizance. A thirst 
for temporary applause, or an early triumph, induce but too 
\ many to adopt, while they condemn, a mistaken policy, and 
I sacrifice every hope of a wider and more enduring fame for 
\ some paltry, early-won advantage. 

ij In every age, more especially in our own day of intense 
\ excitement and of progress, with our raging thirst for ma- 
terial wealth and political preferment, men need to realize 
\ that a violation of the moral law, disregard of the dictates of 
\ the moral sense, will be followed by suffering and moral de- 
basement, as surely as physical suffering awaits the trans- 
j gressor of physical law — that it is a great truth — alike 
in the spiritual as in the material world — that "whatsoever 
a man sows of that shall he also reap" — and that he, whose 
\ controlling, paramount object it is to win earthly honor, pre- 
ferment or gain, at the sacrifice of other and higher cons ide- 



Jt. L. TODD. 11 



U 



rations, and thus sows to the flesh, shall indeed reap — cor- 
ruption. 

Our mental habitudes are those which we ourselves form, 
j and few impressions are ever wholly erased from the sus- 
§ ceptible mind, but become, as it were, incorporated with and 
part of the mind itself. Hence, while a single act of wil- 
ful wrong vitiates and blunts the moral sense and removes j 
the safeguard to the commission of any number of similar 
acts, and becomes part of our past history, it forms also the 
• groundwork and basis of our future history ; and as well j 
; may we swallow poison and expect entire impunity from 

injury, as to suppose that we do not debase and degrade our- i 
j selves, sully and defile the purity of our moral nature, by a 
; single wilful departure from the clear line of duty. Such \ 
I an act does violence to our Heaven-born monitor, obscures ; 

our moral sight, and forces us to view objects through a dis- 
: colored medium and with an obliquity of vision, which must l 
forever impede, if not totally prevent, a just and accurate ! 
perception of them and their relations. With what care j 
then should we guard against being tempted, by any con- \ 
sideration of apparent present advantage, to deviate from 
< the strictest requirements of our God-given monitor — with 
\ what assiduity should we cultivate the habit of implicit obe- 
\ dience to its dictates — and with whal scorn and indignation 
: should we reject any station, or power, or honor, for which 
we must pay the price of a sacrifice of principle or of truth. 
1 One such sacrifice, unknown it may be to all besides him j 
who made it, will color the whole course of his future life, 
and leave on his character a dark and corrupting stain, whose 
tendency is to destroy his self-respect, strip him of all the • 
dignity, purity and elevation of manhood, undermine every 
virtue and render him a faint-hearted coward, dreading and 
shrinking from exposure, an offensive, loathsome, moral j 
ruin. It matters not what may have been the success of his \ 
scheme — what the reward of honor or of profit, which may j 
have waited upon his abandonment of truth. No success 
and no reward can compensate a correctly educated man, 



12 ADDRESS OF 

who estimates things at their true value, for his wilful for« v 
feiture of his part oft ha' bond of union among men, that 
excelling virtue, that alone conservative principle — Truth — 
| whose lull represent Mion, as He is its embodiment, is God. 
■; Eut, Genlltmen, He has not made his handiwork so clum- 
$ sily, has not constructed it upon such vitiated principles, 
$ that violations of his laws are necessary to success here — 
\ that every really valuable end in life may not be secured > 
most surely by perfect ccnfoimity to all His commands; and I 
the thought is a Icul libel on His character. On the con- > 
trary, it is a sublime truth, rich with premise and with 
hope, that the assiduous cultivation of the moral sense and j 
regarJ for its high behests, are -profitable for the life that now \ 
is — and its high rewards and honors are most readily gained ] 
by him whose stern sense of duty and principle revolt at i 
every compromise of truth — who regards the preservation j 
of his own purity and integrity as of more value to him j 
> than the favor of men, when won by subterfuge, trickery or j 
\ dishonorable artifice. And sad indeed would it be were it j 
i; otherwise, and slight must be the gratification derived from j 
ij success, bitter ihe consequences attendant upon it, when, as \ 
) is too often true, it has been obtained by the surrender of \ 
\ every principle that ennobles end dignifies manhood. 

But success in the pursuits and objecst of this life is valu- > 
uable more as a means than as an end. And while God con- \ 
tinues to have a scheme to execute in the world, He will al- \ 
ways find a place for every man to occupy and means for him \ 
to use — will give him that measure of success be:>t for him— 
good gifts rather than those which may be most attractive — ■ 
will point him to his field of labor and see to it that he has 
\ the privilege of doing His will. And this is a far more im- 
\ portant end than the attainment of this honor or that place 
\ of profit. 

And this great truth — that He will help us to work out 
His pnrposes, and place us in just the situation most favor- 
able for the accomplishment of that end — "received Into the 
depths of the soul, will germinate there and bear fruit a 



i 



,0" ... \. ' 

n. L. TODD. id -. 



thousand fold, explaining and connecting and glorifying in- 
numerable things, apparently the most unlike and insingin- 
jcant" — will 

; >; So inform 

The mind that is within us, so impress 
With quietness and beauty, and so feed 
With lofty thought, that neither evil tongues, 
Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, 
Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all 
The dreary intercourse of life, 

< Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb 

Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold 

| Is full of blessings." 

\ Actuated, gentlemen, by these principles, sustained by 
\ high and elevating considerations, we may remain calm and 
x selfpoised, proof against despondency from defeat, gathering 
| strength and hope from every effort, and may well afford to 
| live without all that worldly success, to obtain which we 
I must sacrifice moral purity. Thus will our names not only 
be, but justly be honorable names. Thus will our associa- 
I tion most surely secure the valuable objects of its efforts. 
\ Promotive as it will be of social intercourse and pleasure ; 
\ among us, who are one in our early attachments and pursuits, 
s it will give us the will and the power to concentrate our 
\ influence and aid in building up this, our literary parent, 
\ and extending its sphere of activity and of usefulness. — 
Widely separated already by varying fortune, some in the 
sunny south, some on the inviting shores of the Pacific, and 
others dotting thickly the bosom of our mighty valley, and 
yearly receiving accessions to our number — we all have at I 
last one endearing lie in common. Let that tie inspire us ; 
with the noble aim of being one in object and in effort — ; 
worthy of us and of our age — and while we remember that : 
"they that sow in tears shall reap in joy," let us learn 
to contemplate apparent defeat following honest effort, as i 
the precursor of more valuable and stable success. Keeping 
green and fresh the memory of our early ties, and annually ' 
turning aside from the dusty, weary pathway of life to lux- j 
s uriate in fulness of joy, in the remembrances and jj / 
^ friendships of the past, we may renew our conflict with life) jg 

\ . ^ w 









14 *. l. todd's address. 



with higher hope and purer, firmer faith — fuller of charity 
for our fellows, richer in love for all God's creatures — and 
s strive with manlier purpose for the realization, to us and 
them, of His choicest blessings. United in the same cause 
\ and pressing forward to the attainment of the same ends, 
: animated by the same soul-inspiring zeal, and yet pursuing 
I different paths and hoping for success by the use of varying, 
: perhaps antagonistic, means, let us cherish the thought of our 
: oneness and harmony ; recognizing amid all our struggles 
and conflicts in life our union and brotherhood, not from a 
similar political or religious shibboleth — not from party 
names or arbitrary classifications — but from an earnest de- 
votion to our educational interests and to whatever tends to 
elevate the character, promote the happiness, increase the 
value and subserve the moral purity, of Man. 



W&>*^ ' — _^&Efa 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



028 308 347 



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